Heart of a Father
by Salbatu
Summary: Frank Reagan is a father first and a PC second. When a cold case from Frank's past resurfaces, putting Jamie's life in danger, Frank must solve this case once and for all. Frank-centric; Jamie whump. No pairings. In progress.
1. Prologue: Jamie on a Wednesday

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Blue Bloods. (I would, however, love to meet Tom Selleck).

This is set early on in the series because I'm not caught up past season 2.

Sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes.

Note: I have no idea if Jamie has a balcony or not. In this story, though, he does. :)

Prologue: Jamie on a Wednesday

On that particular Wednesday afternoon, Jamie Reagan was slowly preparing himself for a midnight tour. There were still several hours before his shift started but Jamie didn't like to leave things until last minute.

He had taken a shower already and had most of his gear ready to go. The rest was waiting for him in his locker at the station.

Looking at the clock, he considered what to do next. His eyes settled on the coffee maker sitting on his counter. He fiddled in the cabinets, collecting the grounds, a filter, and a cup.

After he had made his coffee, he stepped out on his balcony. He watched as the steam poured off of the coffee and into the air. It was a quiet afternoon. All was peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

A scream coming from the alley between Jamie's building and other caught Jamie's attention.

"Help me!" a woman's voice pierced through the cold air. Jamie caught sight of what appeared to be a young woman being grabbed by a much larger man in a hoodie.

Dropping his coffee, his thoughts and concerns focused on the distressed citizen rather than the replaceable ceramic mug, Jamie grabbed his gun from where it waited on his table.

Running down the stairs that would lead him to the nearest exit to the alley, Jamie focused on moving as fast as he could without falling.

He raced into the alley with his gun raised, trying to assess the situation.

Except there was no situation to assess; the alley was empty except for a familiar dumpster pressed up against the building's wall.

The back of Jamie's neck began to tingle. He kept his gun raised, his senses on high alert. Something wasn't right.

"Hello?" he called out, wondering if the woman was injured somewhere nearby.

A screech of tires drew his attention. He turned, pointing his gun toward the oncoming vehicle. The small car didn't stop and Jamie tried to leap out of the way.

He landed on his side and his gun slipped out of his grip. The car stopped beside him. He grappled for his gun, trying to get up and face whatever threat was imminent. Before he could get up, however, two men climbed quickly out of the car and came toward him.

Jamie tried to fight them off but he knew the fight was over when he caught the glint of a needle heading for his neck. He tried to hit it away from himself but his arms were being pinned by one of the men.

He felt the sharp pinch of the syringe enter through his skin. Jamie didn't stop struggling until the drug began to take effect.

Within thirty seconds, Jamie Reagan was placed inside the trunk of the car, which pulled out of the alley and into traffic, disappearing into the throng of vehicles in the New York traffic.


	2. Chapter 1- No Leads

Note: The baddie in this fic is a psychopath who enjoys torture, murder, and manipulation. That being said, I do not intend to write any depictions of physical torture. That is not my milieu. I prefer the mystery and character study stuff, which will be the focus of this story, although the effects of the psychopath's actions will be described.

Chapter One: No Leads

 **Two Weeks Later**

Frank Reagan ran his hand over his face. The past two weeks had been the hardest of his life. The weeks after the deaths of Mary and Joe had been a close second but this… Frank was sure he would go out of his mind if this continued much longer.

Two weeks ago, Officer Jamie Reagan failed to report for duty. When Danny, informed by his father of the situation, showed up at his brother's apartment to look for him, there were no signs of Jamie anywhere to be found.

Detective Reagan had knocked on so many doors that he lost count. He finally found one older lady in the apartment directly above Jamie's that mentioned a scream she heard in the alley, and although she thought she saw a young brunette woman, she couldn't be sure. The glasses hanging from her neck on a long chain clued Danny in on how reliable a visual account of incidents this woman would be able to relate.

When Danny went to the alley to investigate, he found the item currently sitting on his father's desk.

Jamie's cell phone had been placed inside a plastic sandwich bag with a sticky note attached that said: _Please deliver to Police Commissioner Francis Reagan_.

A text had been sent before Danny had arrived. It read: Be ready for my call.

Frank had not slept for three nights after that. He had allowed the phone to be dusted for prints but none had been found, not even Jamie's.

The phone had not left Frank's sight since. Whatever had happened to Jamie, it was obviously connected to Frank. What that connection might be was currently the focus of one of the most intense investigations Danny Reagan had ever been a part of.

Nothing had been found. No one had seen anything. The surveillance cameras that were placed all around Jamie's building had only caught the image of a small red sedan leaving the scene. There were no license plates, no visible faces, and no signs of Jamie.

It had all the makings of a dead end but none of the Reagans, nor any of those assisting in the investigation, were willing to give up yet.

How could they?

With a sigh, Frank closed his eyes and uttered the same prayer he had been repeatedly endlessly for the past two weeks.

"God, protect my son. Help me find him."

The ringing of a cell phone jolted Frank from his prayer. His heart leapt in his chest but he kept his composure as disappointment settled over him. It was his own phone, not Jamie's. He checked the name of the caller. Danny.

"Found anything yet?" he asked his eldest.

"Nothin' yet, Dad," Danny's voice betrayed his exhaustion and frustration. "Call come yet?"

"No," Frank replied.

"Dad, we shoulda heard somethin' by now, shouldn't we? I mean, the phone was left for you _two weeks ago._ Why haven't they called yet?"

"I don't know, Danny," Frank replied, his own tone matching his son's. He didn't dare voice the possibility that had been residing in the back of his mind since the first week went by with no word.

It was entirely possible that the plan that whoever was responsible had concocted had gone awry. If that had happened, then they might never hear from the perp. That was the worst case scenario, however, and Frank was not yet ready to voice this possibility.

"My guess is it's part of a strategy," Frank continued after a small pause. "Whoever this is, they want us as close to desperate as they can make us."

"Yeah, well," Danny commented, "I think it's workin'."

"If you can't keep a clear head, Danny-" Frank was interrupted by his son.

"My head's fine, Dad." His voice was firm now, unwavering.

"Alright, son. Just keep to your desk. I don't need any complaints of conflict of interest heading my way because you take to the streets with this."

Danny heaved a deep sigh.

"I know, Dad. I'll behave. At least until we have a name and address. Then I can't make any promises."

"Danny," Frank cautioned but Danny cut him off again.

"I can't stand this."

The quiet of his son's voice made Frank's heart break. He tried to think of something to reassure his son but he had no words. There was silence over the line for several moments.

"I know, son. I can't either." Frank heard the sound of his son sniffle over the phone. Danny wasn't the type to cry easily but this case was much too close to home.

"Let me know if anythin' changes, alright?" Danny requested.

"Sure," Frank agreed.

They said their good-byes. Frank knew Danny would continue poring over file upon file of old cases, looking for leads.

In the meantime, Frank went back to staring at Jamie's cell phone.

Then, the screen lit up with an unknown number. The call had finally come.


	3. Chapter 2- Vincent Jorrien

Chapter Two: Vincent Jorrien

Frank stared at the phone which had for so long been silent. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly used the intercom to call in the team of technicians that had been waiting nearby ever since Jamie's phone was delivered to him.

As the team began to set up, Frank picked up the phone. His hand shook slightly at first and then he took a deep breath.

He answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hiya, Frankie, how've ya been?" An unfamiliar voice replied in a sing-song tone.

"With whom am I speaking?" Frankie demanded in a calm tone that did nothing to hide his anger.

"Oh Frankie, I'm hurt. I'm really hurt! Don't you know your old friend?" The man's voice was sarcastic and Frank could already feel the impulse to shut the man up. Violently.

"Who is this?" he repeated.

"Well, I guess we never did speak to each other. I certainly know you, though," the man continued as though Frank had never spoken. "And your father. Not to mention Detective Danny. Linda. Those strapping young boys of theirs. Adorable, sweet Nicki. Erin. I was really shocked to hear about Joe, you know. I grieved, Frankie, I really did… and little Jamie. Yeah, I've gotten to know him real well. Me and him, we're best buddies now."

"Where is he?" Frank kept his voice quiet but the threat was very clear to everyone listening.

"But I haven't even answered your first question! Aren't you curious? I'll let you know. I don't mind. Just like I don't mind the fact that you've got a bunch of smarty-pants types in there with you tracing this call. In fact, I want you to come here. But I'll get to that. My name's Vincent, Frankie. Vincent Jorrien."

Frank's breath caught in his throat. That was a name he hadn't heard since his days on tour. Of course he remembered that name. The pictures from the crime scenes were permanently scarred into his mind.

"What do you want, Jorrien?" Frank asked.

"I want to play with you again, Frankie," Vincent's voice was taunting. "I had so much fun last time. You were _this_ close to finding me, Frankie. So, so close. I even had to leave the city!"

The sound of Jorrien laughing made Frank clench his free hand into a tight fist.

"The Police Commissioner of New York does not play games with criminals."

"Ah, Frankie," Vincent teased in a falsely disappointed voice, "you're no fun! It took so much time to get everything ready. I'm sure you'll find out. But I think you'll play this game. In fact, I know you will."

The next voice Frank heard over the line was not Vincent's.

"Dad?"

"Jamie," Frank breathed out, taking in everything he could about the voice he hadn't heard in what seemed like an eternity. His son sounded breathless, pained, but Frank was infuriatingly without any clear information as to the condition of his son.

"He's the prize, Frankie," Vincent was back on the phone. "Now, I'm guessing those computer guys have got a location by now. Am I right?"

Frank looked up at the men and women with the equipment. One of the women nodded.

"Of course they do," Vincent continued. "So Jamie and I will be leaving soon. But first, know that this is a treasure hunt of sorts. I've left you clues- the first one's here- and if you win, you get your son back. If I win… well, you remember how quickly I tire of my toys?"

The horrific images pushed their way to the forefront of Frank's mind again.

"If you release Officer Reagan immediately and turn yourself in, I will be sure to relate your cooperation to the DA's office."

"Oh Frankie," Vincent sighed. "I'm not forfeiting that easily."

"This is your one and only chance to make that decision."

"I'm the one making the rules here, Reagan." For the first time, the other man's voice lost its carefree tone. "Don't forget that. If you do, I might have to start making the game more interesting. You wouldn't want your prize to be tarnished, would you? Jamie needs both of his ears to be the best cop he can be, right? And I'm guessing he'll need all ten fingers, too."

Frank's heart dropped at Vincent's threats. Still, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"I'll be seeing you, Frankie," Vincent said, once again in a sing-song voice. "You might want to take a leave of absence from the whole 'commissioner' thing. I think Jamie needs your full attention right now."

The next thing Frank heard was the dial-tone.

He set the phone back down on his desk. He looked over the people gathered in his office.

"What's the address?"


	4. Chapter 3- The Hunt Begins

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

I apologize for any and all mistakes.

Chapter Three: The Hunt Begins

Vincent Jorrien.

Frank remembered a lot of cases he had been handed in his days as a cop and there were plenty that he wished he could forget. The case that had begun with the name Vincent Jorrien and that had never truly ended was one of those.

He had never really stopped looking for any indication that this particular perp had returned to the city but after so many years, Police Commissioner Reagan was still taken aback by the sudden reappearance.

Frank had given Garrett instructions to pass along to the mayor the notification of the commissioner's leave of absence.

"He's not going to be happy about it," Garrett had mentioned.

Frank had leveled his gaze at his friend, his priorities making themselves loud and clear. Garrett had cleared his throat and exited the commissioner's office without another word.

Frank had then wasted no time in preparing a car to take him to the address from which Jorrien's call had been placed.

He had been in no mood to argue about having his detail accompany him to the site, even though he didn't particularly relish the thought of showing up to the address with so many armed men in tow, just in case Jorrien happened to have a problem with that.

There had been no instruction given against it, however, so Frank did his best to not worry about it. Of all the things he had to worry about, that concern was not especially high on the list.

There was one person, however, that he did want with him at the scene: the best detective the NYPD had to offer.

"Any news?" Danny asked him as soon as he answered his father's call.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Frank responded. He proceeded to tell him the address to which he was currently headed.

"I'll meet you there," Danny replied quickly before Frank even had to instruct him to do just that. The next thing Frank knew, Danny had hung up on him.

The address was for an old, abandoned warehouse. For all that these types of places began to bleed together for a cop, Frank remembered this one well.

It was the site of the first murder in the Vincent Jorrien case.

"The victim's name was Ashley Wang," Frank told Danny after he had arrived and been briefed by his father of the new information regarding Jamie's disappearance.

"This Jorrien guy wanted to take you for a trip down memory lane? What for?"

Frank shook his head slightly.

"It's always been a game to him. He preyed on his victims with no motive and never had any preference for the type of victim he chose."

"Except Jamie wasn't random," Danny commented.

"No," Frank agreed, "I'm the one he wants playing his game this time. He's been planning this out for a while."

Frank caught his son's eyes and continued.

"He's been watching us. All of us."

"Think we should get everybody to a safe house?" Danny's voice was strained as he thought of his own children and his wife.

"I don't think any added protection would be a bad idea," Frank said, "But for now, it seems like Jorrien's focus is on me and Jamie."

"So why did he want you to come to this place?" Danny asked his father.

"He must have left something here. A clue for his "treasure hunt," as he called it."

"You really think he's left a trail of breadcrumbs leadin' straight to Jamie?"

"No. I don't expect it to be that simple. But that's all we've got to go on, so that's what we're going to do."

Danny looked away from his father. He shook his head in frustration but didn't voice his opinion on his family being a pawn in a psychopath's "game." Instead he asked,

"Where do you think he woulda left a clue? This's a pretty big place. We might need reinforcements to help search."

Frank had already begun to walk away as his son spoke.

"No need. I have a pretty good idea where we'll find it."

They travelled up a flight of stairs and Frank led the way across the gutted expanse of the second story.

"This is where Ashley's body was found," Frank informed Danny.

An envelope had been left on the floor right where Frank had suspected the clue would be left. Danny supplied him with a pair of latex gloves, which he put on before he bent down to pick up the envelope and opened it.

There were three folded papers inside. Frank took them out and unfolded them.

The paper on top was a note from Jorrien.

It was titled: _How to Play:_

 _1) Follow the clues and do not try to skip ahead of the game._

 _2) You will be allowed three hints throughout the game._

 _3) No cheating._

 _Hope you have fun, Frankie. I know I will._

"What's he mean by 'no cheating'?" Danny asked.

"Anything we do that he doesn't like, I assume," Frank responded grimly. He flipped to the next page.

This paper had a different address on it: 124 Park Avenue S.

"That's our clue," Danny observed. Frank nodded in reply.

"Then what's the other one?" Danny asked. Frank dutifully flipped the pages again and felt his heart jump into his throat.

It was a picture of Jamie.

He was hanging by his hands, which were chained somewhere above him. There was dried blood caked along the side of his face. He had no shirt on, revealing a significant amount of bruises and cuts littered across his torso.

One of his eyes looked like it was swelled shut.

Frank vaguely registered the sound of Danny cursing beside him as he took in the sight of his little brother.

On his part, Frank's hands had suddenly formed a death grip on the printed photo.

He didn't speak. Frank felt his throat tightening as he felt moisture begin to collect in his eyes.

 _Jamie…_

Frank folded the papers together again, no longer able to bear the sight. He put all three papers back into the envelope and put it in his pocket before taking off the gloves.

He would get his son back. And then, Victor Jorrien would pay.


	5. Chapter 4- Three Reagans

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story.

A little more of the investigation and glimpse at poor Jamie. More will happen in the next chapter, promise. Enjoy

Chapter 4- Three Reagans

"I want you to go back to your precinct," Frank instructed Danny as they left the warehouse. "Review the files from my original case. A fresh set of eyes might give us something to go on."

"What are you gonna do?" Danny asked his father as they walked back to the vehicles.

"Keep playing Jorrien's game," he stopped to look at his oldest, "I think our best bet is to work this from two different angles. You try to find anything you can on the man himself. Where he's been living, any living relatives, you know the drill. I'll try to figure out what his end game is."

"You're not goin' alone?" Danny quietly inquired, concern lacing his voice. His father averted his gaze, a troubled look on his face. He continued walking to the vehicles and Danny followed.

" _Dad-_ "

"I'll have my detail accompany me," he said, "although I can't be sure that that won't have repercussions."

"You're afraid Jorrien won't like it," Danny deduced, "but they came along on this one. And I'm here, too."

"And I already feel like I'm pushing my luck," Frank commented, "And Jamie's. If Jorrien decides that having someone with me is cheating-"

"Then he might take it out on Jamie," Danny nodded in solemn understanding.

Frank nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Alright," Danny breathed out the word as they finally reached their respective vehicles. "I'll go see what I can dig up. Call me if you need me. Be careful,"

He waved good-bye to his father and took off, his nerves showing in his hurried pace and harried demeanor.

"You too," Frank returned the sentiment as his son drove off, well out of ear-shot.

* * *

The second address was not one Frank recognized.

It was an apartment complex, one that Frank had never before ventured into.

He walked calmly through the front doors and looked around.

As far as he could tell, nothing out of the ordinary was present. Nothing that would provide him with a clue about Jamie's whereabouts.

The mailboxes of the tenants were all on the first floor and Frank wandered over to them, wondering if the clue was hidden in one of them.

He scanned the metal faces of the boxes but once again, saw nothing out of place. He turned around, facing the elevator on the other side of the room.

Frank walked toward it and observed the panel of buttons. There were four floors to the building, not including the basement.

How was he supposed to know which floor to search? Would the clue be waiting in a hallway? On the roof? Inside one of the apartments?

Frank's mind drifted to the second instruction on Jarrien's note.

 _2) You will be allowed three hints throughout the game._

He wasn't about to just ask for one yet, though. There was no telling just how long Jorrien intended this 'treasure hunt' to last and Frank wasn't ready to admit he was out of options just yet.

He pushed the down button for the elevator. The super of the building, he had noticed on a sign on the wall, was located in the basement.

Maybe he could track down the clue with some more information.

* * *

Meanwhile, Danny had retrieved the files from his father's original investigation of Victor Jorrien.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to the files except pictures and notes of the crime scenes, victims and their families, and some pictures of Jorrien himself.

The psychopath had apparently taunted the police during his six-month killing spree. His killings were erratic, sometimes spanning two months, sometimes spanning two days.

Jorrien had also apparently sent messages to the police regarding three of his nine victims. For each of them, a hand-written note was sent in an envelope with no return address.

Each of the three notes read: _This one was fun!_ _-Victor Jorrien_

Those three victims; Bernard Atley, Rida Daher, and Paulina Green had all been missing for over two weeks before their bodies were found. Paulina Green had been missing for a month and a half.

There was nothing connecting the victims. Not gender, race, socioeconomic status, nothing in their histories tying them to one, singular clue as to why they were targeted.

Danny suppressed a groan and rubbed his hands over his face.

What he wouldn't give to be out on the streets, demanding some answers.

The problem was, he didn't have any idea which doors he should be knocking down yet.

It was as though Victor Jorrien didn't exist. No evidence at any of the crime scenes had any traces of the killer's DNA or fingerprints. All the leads Frank and his partner at the time had tried to follow had eventually led them to dead-ends.

What was there left? What more could Danny do that his father hadn't?

As Danny continued to flip through the files, he finally felt a surge of hope. There had been a witness to the ninth murder.

Danny jumped up from his desk, pulling his jacket off of the back of his chair. He already had his phone out, calling in a favor.

"Hey, can you find an address for me?"

* * *

The past… however many days had passed had been a slow decline for Jamie. Ever since he had woken up in some empty room, he had expected nothing less.

Jamie had hoped, however, that his father and brother would have found him by now.

He was left alone, for now, in what seemed to be a more-or-less permanent residence. Permanent, at least, until he figured out some way to get out.

The man who had come to the room soon after Jamie first awoke had introduced himself as Victor. Jamie found he didn't particularly care for the pleasantries.

Nor, as time would relate, did Victor. Any idea of pleasant-ness was erased the moment Victor described his plan for Jamie and his father. This was followed by what Victor called 'tests.' Tests that included restraints, knives, a baseball bat, and good old-fashioned fists.

Thankfully, Victor didn't remain amused with his 'tests' for long.

He would leave Jamie on his own for long periods of time, occasionally bringing in some food and water which Jamie was wary of consuming. As it turned out, he had reason to be concerned.

There was some form of drug, a sedative if Jamie had to guess, in the items he was given. Victor had had to force the first bottle of water down Jamie's throat before Jamie realized no drugs was not an option.

The sedatives were mild and usually did nothing more than make him drowsy and disoriented. The one time they had knocked him out, he had woken up in a different, more open space.

That time, Victor was kneeling in front of him with a phone in his hand.

"I'm going to call your daddy," Victor had told him in a high-pitched, mocking voice. "And you will not say a word until I hold the phone out to you. If you do, then I will have to put a bullet in big brother's brain. Alrighty? Or, if you would prefer, your sister's. I'll let you pick. Sound like fun?"

"Stay away from my family," Jamie had spat at the man. Victor burst out laughing. He stood up, wiping at his eyes.

"Oh baby Reagan," he had said, "You _are_ a lot of fun!"

Jamie had been relieved to hear his father's voice, to know that Frank and Danny both knew who they were looking for now. He knew that they wouldn't give up until they found him.

As he glanced around his prison, his mind not able to fully focus, Jamie hoped that that would happen sooner rather than later.


	6. Chapter 5- The Investigation Continues

So not all that much happens on Frank's end... as for Danny's investigation: can anyone say ex machina? My story, though, so I'm allowing it.

Danny's interview took up a lot more than I thought it would. I only covered about a third of what I had planned for this chapter but the rest is coming!

Enjoy

Chapter 5- The Investigation Continues

Frank found the office belonging to the building's super and introduced himself and, while he did not disclose the exact nature of his reason for being there, he did impart to the man the urgency of the situation.

"I need a list of all current tenants' names and a list of employees who currently work here," he informed the man, "and I'd like to be able to skip the warrant. Time is of the essence here."

The super, more than a little intimidated by the impressive figure of New York City's Police Commissioner standing in his office, nodded his assent.

"Of course," the man said, getting up from his desk.

Frank thanked him and waited, watching as the man worked to pull all the information together for him.

While he waited, his mind drifted. He couldn't help but think about Jamie.

His stomach knotted painfully as he remembered the image of his son from the photograph.

More than anything, he longed for a way to jump ahead of all this charade. Although he would never give up on his son, Frank knew better than to believe that Jorrien intended for either Reagan to live past the end of the "game."

What he needed was a way to get ahead of Jorrien. Hopefully, either Frank himself or Danny could find or figure out a way to do just that.

In the meantime, Frank stood with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, his stoicism not betraying any of his turmoil.

All he could do right now was wait.

* * *

Danny Reagan, unlike his father, was speeding down the road, narrowly avoiding collision on a couple of occasions.

He was on his way to visit the only witness that had ever existed for any of Jorrien's murders.

At the time, the woman had only been a little girl. She hadn't been able to provide Frank or any of the other officers at the time with much information. All that had been written in the report was that she had seen the victim be killed but she had been of no help to the investigators.

Danny had called his father when he first headed out to the witness's current address.

"She was scared back then, too scared to talk," Frank had told him, "and if she did encounter Jorrien, chances are she still is."

"Yeah, but maybe now that she's all grown up she'll be willin' ta help us," Danny said.

"Do whatever you can to encourage to talk to you, Danny," his father commanded gently, "Just remember, she's not a suspect you're interrogating."

"I know that, Dad," Danny replied, his irritation breaking through at his father's comment.

"I know you know. I also know you have a tendency to get overly emotional sometimes. Especially when it comes to your family."

"The only person who's going to be in danger from me is Jorrien when we catch him," Danny rebutted.

"You'll have to get in line," Frank muttered, somewhat under his breath.

"Second in line," Danny claimed his spot.

"Call me back if she tells you anything," Frank told him.

"You got it," Danny responded, ending the call.

Thankfully, it wasn't much longer before he arrived at the address. Getting out of the car, he walked to the front door and rang the bell.

When no one came to the door, he knocked loudly, announcing,

"Police, anybody home?"

He heard the sounds of the door being unlocked and it opened to reveal a short woman with brown hair.

"McKenzie Adams?" he inquired.

"Yes," the woman answered with an air of uncertainty, "Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Detective Danny Reagan. I'm currently investigating the kidnapping of a police officer. I have reason to believe you might know something about that. Mind answering a few questions?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," McKenzie replied, "I don't know anything about a kidnapping."

"But you might know something about the man responsible. When you were seven, you said you witnessed a murder that took place just down the street from your apartment. Do you remember the name Victor Jorrien?"

The woman's eyes widened in horror.

"No, no I can't help you. Please go away," she said, attempting to close the door. Danny put his hand up, pleading with her.

"Please, ma'am, I know it's somethin' you don't want to talk about, but we don't have a whole lot of leads. Anything you can give me could be worth a lot. Please."

McKenzie looked him the eyes for a few moments while Danny held his breath. She relaxed her position, opening the door wider.

"Alright," she said, pushing strands of her hair behind her ear, "come in. But I don't know how much help I can be."

"Thank you," Danny said, accepting her invitation and crossing the threshold.

She offered him a cup of coffee, which he denied respectfully. McKenzie poured herself one and joined him in her living room, where they sat to talk.

"What do you remember about that night, McKenzie?" Danny asked her in a soft tone.

She was quiet for a moment and then spoke,

"I was outside playing with my brothers. Our ball rolled down the sidewalk. I wasn't supposed to, but I ran to go get it. When I was walking back, I heard a man shout in the alley. I was curious, so I went to go see what was going on," she paused, swallowing nervously, the memories as fresh as the night they were created.

"I saw two men; one was on his knees. He looked horrible, with cuts all over his face. He was crying, but I couldn't figure out why. And then the other man, he pulled out something that shined. It was a knife and he… he…"

She began to tear up as she remembered what Jorrien had done to the other man.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, McKenzie," Danny said, leaning forward to hold her hand. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No need to be sorry," Danny told her, "that's a hard thing to see, especially for a kid."

She nodded but didn't say anything else.

"Is that all you remember?" Danny asked.

She didn't respond right away. Danny noticed her bite her lip and look away, out the window.

"That's all," she finally said quietly.

Danny found he didn't quite believe her.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, using a gentle tone.

She nodded, biting her lip again.

"McKenzie, there's a cop who has been taken by the same man you saw murder another person that night. Are you absolutely positive that that's all you can tell me? A life is at stake, McKenzie."

"No, I can't tell you anything else," she said, looking him in the eye, but there was a fear there that made Danny press on.

"That cop that's been taken," he told her slowly, "he's my kid brother. I think you might know somethin' that could help me find him. Please, McKenzie. Anything at all."

She looked at him, tears once again in her eyes. She was shaking, nervous and afraid.

"He said he'd kill me," she whispered. Danny leaned forward.

"I can make sure you're protected," he told her, hope and nervous energy balling up in the pit of his stomach. "Just tell me what you can."

She was still crying as she spoke again,

"He saw me. After he k-killed him, he looked up and saw me. I froze. I was so scared. He ran up to me and grabbed my arm. I thought he would kill me, too. H-He pulled out a gun. I started crying and he told me to be quiet. He took out a bullet from the gun and put it in my hand. He told me that if I told anybody about him, he would come back and give me another one… in my head. Then he left."

She got up before Danny could respond and headed to a chest by the front door.

"I wanted to get rid of it," she told him as she took out a small, wooden box, "but for some reason, I just couldn't. I think… maybe I was afraid if I did, he would come back. Like it would jinx me or something."

She pulled out a bullet and held it out to Danny, who pulled out one of his latex gloves, which he used to wrap around the bullet.

"That's great, McKenzie, you did good. Do you happen to remember if he was wearing gloves when he handed you this?"

She shook her head.

"No, I don't really remember. I don't think he was, though."

"Alright, thank you so much. Come with me back to the station? I can get you hooked up with a protection detail just in case."

She agreed and gathered her purse.

They left the house and headed to Danny's precinct. On the way, Danny pulled out his phone. He had some calls to make.


	7. Chapter 6- A Difficult Game to Play

Note: So, this chapter isn't that great and wasn't uploaded as soon as I had expected it to be; I apologize.

I had intended to write this long before now, but since the last chapter upload, a few things happened:

-my brother was hospitalized (kidney stones, it turned out. he's much better now)

-my cat got sick (being a cat's "nurse" is not easy but he's also better now)

-I got sick (still not feeling great)

-I quit my job and started a new one

I've been very distracted but I finally got back to this story!

Hopefully the next chapter will be up within a week, but don't hold me to that.

* * *

Chapter 6- A Difficult Game to Play

The list that the super had given him had been, unfortunately, useless.

Frank had taken the multiple pages back to his desk at 1PP. Though he was currently not functioning in any police commissioner capacity, he had chosen his work-space over his desk at his home.

There were too many Reagans under that roof right now. Ever since Frank had discovered that Victor Jorrien had returned and had far too much knowledge of his family for Frank's comfort, he had endeavored to convince his daughter and Linda to take one of the many more secure options available to them through the NYPD.

Eventually, Linda had agreed to sleep over with her boys at Frank and Henry's until Jorrien was no longer a threat. Erin had agreed to have security tightened at her apartment for her and Nikki's safety.

It wasn't exactly what Frank had wanted but he was able to realize that this concern, though important, should not and could not be the primary one.

He knew there was always the possibility that Jorrien could go after more of his family but Frank didn't believe very strongly in that possibility.

Jorrien would most likely remain content to play his current game so long as he was convinced that Frank was on the path to lose.

Which he was, Frank thought bitterly to himself.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the multiple pages that the super had been able to provide to give Frank any indication as to where or what the next clue might be.

Danny's phone call the day before had given Frank the first glimmer of hope he had had since this nightmare began.

The witness Danny had interviewed, now under police protection, had provided them with a bullet from which forensics had been able to pull a fingerprint.

They had run the print through the system, which had provided them with the name Gary Feranvos.

He had been arrested in the state of Vermont for burglary three years ago.

 _"This guy murders nine people, moves to Vermont, gets married, has a kid, and then gets arrested for tryin' to steal a television from somebody's house," Danny had summarized after going over the file on Jorrien's true identity. "He gets out of jail then poof! No trace of him at all."_

 _"Check for properties owned by him or his wife. Dig up whatever you can and try to find out what happened to her. She might know something,"_

 _"Or be in on it," Danny suggested._

 _"See what you can find, then get back to me," Frank said._

 _"Right, boss."_

 _"And Danny?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Good work."_

So far, though, none of the information Danny had been able to find had helped Frank in his search for the next clue. He had walked nearly every square inch accessible to him in the apartment building Jorrien had led him to.

Frank allowed himself a brief moment to imagine the satisfaction he would feel once he tracked down Jorrien, Feranvos, whatever his name was.

As an officer of the law and as the New York City Police Commissioner, he knew that unless Jorrien presented an immediate threat when they confronted one another, Frank would not be able to bring himself to kill him.

Shoot him, maybe, but not kill him.

Frank did have a strong wish, however, that once he stood face to face with Jorrien that he would have probable cause to rid the world of the psychopath once and for all.

He tried to not think about Jamie.

It made him feel like the most horrible father in the world to admit to himself that he was avoiding the thought of his son but every time he did think of his youngest, he couldn't stop himself from thinking of how Jamie had looked in the picture and what he might be going through at that moment.

Every time he thought of Jamie, he found it hard to breathe and harder to concentrate because the worry, the panic at not knowing where his son was or if he was even still alive, would overwhelm him.

Frank, first and foremost the father to his children, longed for the chance to speak to his son, to assure him that he would not stop until Jamie was safe again. The more he thought about what he would say to his son, however, the more distracted he became.

He tried to focus on working the case instead.

 _You will be allowed three hints throughout the game_.

More and more, the words left by Jorrien were repeating themselves in Frank's mind. It seemed that he had little choice but to use one of the hints offered.

Before he did, however, he wanted to be sure it was absolutely necessary, given that Jorrien would undoubtedly try to make things as difficult for Frank as possible.

"What've you found?" Frank asked his son after calling him.

"Not much," Danny admitted, "The wife died several years ago and the daughter's a bit of a challenge to track down."

"What do you mean?"

"She's moved around constantly since she turned eighteen. Never stayed in the same place for more than a few months. She was in NYC not too long ago but we're not sure where she went. She's got a bunch of aliases and it's not clear yet which one she's going by currently and there's been nothing on her credit card or cell phone for a couple of months. I'm on my way to check out her last known address."

"Let me know what you find out," Frank instructed.

"Will do."

Frank ended the call but kept the phone in his hand, staring down at it.

Jorrien had not told him what to do in order to receive a hint, which Frank was forced to admit he needed.

He kept staring at the phone for several minutes, willing it silently to ring or to receive a text message from Jorrien telling him something, anything that would bring him closer to finding his son.

The phone remained silent.

Frank sat in the oppressive silence of his office, mulling over what to do next.

Phone still in hand, he thumbed through the contacts until he came to a familiar name.

Though he knew no one would answer, he called anyway.

"This is Jamie," his son's voice greeted him, "leave a message." The phone beeped.

Frank didn't say anything. He ended the call and considered dialing again, just to hear Jamie's voice once more.

He decided against it. The next time he heard Jamie speak, it would be when Frank was bringing his son home.

Frank picked up the papers on his desk. He wouldn't just wait around until Jorrien decided to call again.

If there was anything he had missed about the apartment building, anything that he had overlooked, Frank was prepared to spend countless hours to find it.

Jamie was going to come home.


End file.
